


Crawling in My Skin (No Robin Dies Tonight)

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: It's one of those days where Jason's skin feels tight like its too small for his body, like the man he is now is still trapped in the body of a broken 15-year old boy who closes his eyes in resignation as the timer hits zero.Tim won't let him fall.





	

It's one of those days where Jason doesn't give a rat's ass about anything or anyone around him. One of those days where his skin feels tight like its too small for his body, like the man he is now is still trapped in the body of a broken 15-year old boy who closes his eyes in resignation as the timer hits zero.

He knows why he feels this way tonight. He avoids thinking about it, but his body craves action instead of the alternative (trapped in a coffin six feet under and he can't _move_ ).

As he races across the rooftops of Crime Alley, the cold wind blows and cuts through his clothes. Right now, he relishes the feel of it against his face, having foregone his namesake red hood tonight. The moon is full and the sky is clear. Jason wants a fight. He's itching for it, craves it almost as much as he craves the nicotine rush of that first cigarette of the day.

A good brawl would be perfect. Something that doesn't take too much skill, just his fist slamming into someone's face breaking their nose and the spray of blood splattering everywhere. The warm rush of another body pressing up against his in retaliation and taking them down with an elbow in the gut and ramming his knee in their face and breaking teeth.

Fighting with his so-called family won't cut it tonight. There's too much thought involved, even though his body is a perfect, if somewhat marred, killing machine. He's too well trained and that kind of a fight takes more out of him emotionally than he's willing to admit. The Replacement gets it sometimes. Out of all the Robins, he knows what it's like to just be _done_ with it all (all of them). Dickie's still an optimistic idiot most of the time and the demonbaby is still striving to prove he's good enough to Daddy (he never will be; none of them are).

He hears shouts coming from the street below and pauses, looking down to see what's going on. There's a fight of some kind getting started, gangbangers and wannabe gangsters talking shit, strutting and posturing and waving ridiculous little switch blades that wouldn't do shit unless one of the punks gets lucky.

Jason's wearing body armor. They won't be lucky.

He uses his grapple line to land right in the middle of group. There's a bloodthirsty grin he can't keep from his face as a few of the men (he uses the term loosely; they're not men yet, not by his standards) take one look at him and _run_. Even without the hood and wearing only a red domino over his eyes, they know who he is. The ones that run are the smart ones. They get to fight another day.

The six that stand their ground are not so lucky.

Jason tears into them like a thirsty man runs to water. He punches the one in front of him, feeling the man's nose snapping under his glove and follows with a hard blow to his jaw. The man falls to the ground, unconscious or dead, Jason doesn't care. Not tonight.

Someone's raining blows across his shoulders and he spins lightly on his feet, always a mean accomplishment for a man of his size and takes the other guy down with a swift kick in the groin. He fights dirty, the way Gotham taught him to survive (he always survives).

There's the punch to someone's stomach and his knee shattering teeth as the third man falls.

The entire time he's been fighting, he hasn't said a word.

The three men left circle him warily. They seem to know there's something different about the Red Hood tonight. That he's on edge and feeling too big for his skin and Jason is plowing into them like a wrecking ball. He grabs one of the men by the front of his shirt and spins him around to send him flying into another. Both fall in a pile of limbs.

The last man standing is holding a long metal pipe in front of him. It's too close to a crowbar in Jason's mind and he sees red that quickly fades into Lazarus pit green. He's lost in the rage and the _green_ and when he comes out of it, slowly like he's dragging his body out of his grave with broken fingers and torn nails, he finds the last three men laying on the ground in front of him, twisted and broken but still breathing.

Barely.

He can't find it in himself to give a fuck about them as he drags in a slow breath, and another, then another. He's out of fucks to give, if he ever had any to begin with tonight.

Jason kicks the metal pipe hard, catching it under the toe of his boot and sending it flying into the night. It lands with a clatter somewhere _not here_ in his sight.

Losing himself to the Pit is unexpected but it doesn't surprise him. Not tonight.

The fight's over and Jason moves on, still feeling restless and too big and itching for something he can't quite name.

A shadow steps out of the alley and watches Jason climb back up to the rooftops. Tim glances at the bodies in front of him and quickly moves in to check if anyone's beyond help. It'll be close for some, but they're all still alive. He calls in an anonymous tip to the GCPD and follows after the Red Hood.

He's been watching him all night. This night of all nights Tim is determined that Jason will not be alone. Bruce and Alfred, Dick and Barbara all deal with Jason's death (and resurrection) in their own way but this is how he remembers this day. Yes, Jason is going to die again someday (they all will someday) but Tim will be damned if it happens again on this same date.

He follows after his Robin, making sure no one else interferes as Jason tears his way through Crime Alley.

As a new day dawns, Tim watches as Jason finally makes it to one of his safehouses in one piece. He watches him superficially care for the relatively few wounds he received tonight through a pair of binoculars (he'll always watch his Robin through a lens though he knows it'll never be rose colored) and only stops when Jason falls onto his cheap mattress and doesn't move. Even from his spot on the opposite rooftop, Tim can tell he's exhausted.

His lonely vigil over, Tim disappears in the early morning light (he’ll repeat it next year, and the year after, for as long as he can).

 

**Author's Note:**

> This started one way and ended completely different from where I thought it would go. But I rather like it.


End file.
